


Rain, Wings and Precious Things

by UnearthedDawn



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Coercion, M/M, Wing Grooming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:21:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28175334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnearthedDawn/pseuds/UnearthedDawn
Summary: Based on Descent into Perdition by Dreamsofspike. Events occurring around chapter 27. A look into time spent between Aziraphale and Crowley while Gabriel is in Heaven.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 20
Collections: Descent Into Perdition and DiP-verse Works





	Rain, Wings and Precious Things

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to Dash11 for being my beta. Couldn't have gotten through this without you.

There isn't always much to do on a rainy autumn afternoon. When all that seems left in the world are wet drops soaking the soil and rolling thunder drowning out conversation. 

Salvation can come, still. The steady, crackling fire in a hearth or thick aroma of rich, hot chocolate. Weaving an atmosphere of peace, warmth, and stillness. So it was in a dusty little bookshop on one such day.

But beneath the soothing ambiance lurked a tension. The threat of idle hands growing impatient. Bored. Days passed with no outlet for the restlessness Crowley could sense growing in the angel he’d once admired so. Only briefly did he steal a glance at the seemingly calm angel sitting in an ancient chair, reading the same worn text for perhaps the dozenth time.

The demon hardly even noticed how the weighted silence interrupted intermittently by the turning of a page affected him. Each light flip caused his fists to clench tighter, tighter... 

"My dear, you look awfully tense."

" 'M fine." 

The demon replied automatically. An anxious desperation to distance himself from the prying angels' attention clawed its way up his back and into his chest. 

"Perhaps-" 

"I'm _ fine _ ." 

The only response was the sound of pages shutting, the gentle shuffling of fabric, and a creaking protest of the old chair as the angel stood and began to cross the room. 

A soft sigh of frustration graced the angels' lips with an unseen shaking of his head as if dealing with an unruly child. A gentle but firm hand found Crowley's shoulder. At the contact, the demon’s shoulders became somehow even tighter. 

"Come now, dear, you are far too tense. Let me help you relax. Bring out your wings for me."  The angel murmured, his tone soft but firm, mimicking the grip on Crowley’s shoulder. 

Crowley froze, taken aback and overwhelmed by the sudden attention. 

In lieu of a response, Aziraphale pressed the demon forward from his seat on the couch to the plush, carpeted floor. He then came around to sit behind the demon and in the vacated spot. 

Indignant, the demon turned back to the angel with an irritated glare. The angel tutted, seemingly annoyed with his lover's continued petulant behavior. Leaning forward, he whispered into Crowley’s ear. 

"Come now, we both know you're not going anywhere." 

The demon felt his heart drop as a shiver coursed its way through his body. No. He's not. He never does. He just stays and watches the horrors that unfold behind the backroom door. Too pathetic to truly put a stop to what he started.  So rotten he'd corrupted his perfect angel. All thanks to his petty desire for revenge.

The angel righted himself with a nod and a tap on Crowley’s shoulder. 

"Now, wings."

Black wings rushed forth, magnificent and sleek. The feathers reflected the light of the fire before them. An appreciative sigh passed the angel's lips as he admired the gleaming feathers with a stroke of his hand. His fingertips glided along the top, brushing the soft plumage he found there. His hand traveled down the coverts on their way to his secondaries, pausing when it encountered wayward feathers. Upon a closer look, he found that the demon’s usually impeccable grooming was uncharacteristically lacking. Plucking a stray, bent covert, he tutted again.

"Watch it!" Crowley turned to Aziraphale, tucking his wings close to his back in response to the rough treatment.

"Really, darling. If you had managed these yourself, I wouldn't need to." The angel huffed. 

"Now settle down, will you? And relax." His soothing tone did nothing to quell the anxious knot in Crowley's stomach. 

_Or what?_ He wanted to ask. But he knew _or what._ _He_ wouldn't be the one to suffer for any minor annoyances the angel might incur. His eyes flicked from the backroom door to the floor before him, resigned. So he allowed his wings to open, on display for the angel to do what he saw fit.

Without wasting time, Aziraphale dove in, hands straightening and plucking stray pinions as they filed through the black plumage. Crowley concentrated on the fire before them, thinking about the stark difference the grooming ritual had taken since…  _ it  _ all began. How this activity had once filled his heart with love and appreciation. 

Now though, it was nothing less than an invasion. The strange hands digging through his fragile appendages, cleaning away loose feathers and grime. Thinking of how these gentle touches came from the same being who could cause so much pain. So much suffering. And it was his fault- No. It wasn't. At least... not _ all _ his fault.

His thoughts were interrupted with a sudden hand on the back of his neck, caressing the fine hair found there.

"What has you frowning, so, my love?"

Crowley had nothing to say. As if there was any real question in the first place. How  _ dare _ he act like everything was just fine. Act so oblivious when  _ he _ was the one who had ruined everything. Ruined Gabriel. Ruined them. 

He stood suddenly, snapping his wings shut and close to his back.

"I'm going to take a nap." He said, his tone clipped, and turned towards the stairs before a firm grasp adhered itself to his wrist. 

"We're not finished here," Aziraphale stated curtly, patience clearly drawing thin with Crowley's attitude. 

"Yes, well,  _ I'm _ finished." The demon retorted haughtily.

Aziraphale responded with a rough tug on the demon’s wrist, hand squeezing tighter, just on the edge of being painful.

"I said we are  _ not finished _ ." Aziraphale's eyes were cold, piercing, alien. Crowley felt as though he was staring at a stranger. Well, hardly a stranger anymore as it was a gaze he had seen all too often since Gabriel had become a regular guest. Suddenly, the angel’s expression softened, his free hand traveling up to cup Crowley’s face. 

"My dear. Perhaps you are right. Maybe you  _ do _ need another nap." 

"No! N-no. I'll… stay. 'S fine." He lied. It was not fine. But being under Aziraphale's spell again was even less fine. 

"Excellent, my dear. I knew you would make the right decision." His angel replied with a soft kiss on his forehead. He tugged him back down to his seat on the floor and let his hands roam across the demon’s shoulders and onto his neck. 

"You used to be so good to me, my dear. Don't you want to be good? To make me happy?" He continued as his hands moved lower, over the demon’s arms, rubbing in what seemed like a comforting motion. 

“Yeah, ‘course.” He mumbled, voice strained in his desperation to not make it worse for once for Gabriel’s sake. 

He took a deep breath and settled into his spot on the soft carpet, forcing his wings to relax even when hands found them and resumed their work. 

“ I love you more than anything, Crowley.” 

The rain that beat down outside added to the cadence in his voice. Steady, sure, and unwavering. Unending as the angels desire to keep his demon beside him, forever.

“I know.”

  
  
  



End file.
